


New Year, Love me

by Beckendorf



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst, First Person, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Holidays, Kissing, M/M, New Year's Eve, Post-Episode: e018 Juno Steel and the Final Resting Place, Romance, i mean it's juno so, the penumbra exchange, tpp exchange, tw slight mention of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 08:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckendorf/pseuds/Beckendorf
Summary: It's New Years' Eve in Hyperion City, and a certain private eye is spending the night drunkenly monologuin-I mean, lamenting on the past year.(This is my contribution for The Penumbra Exchange 2017)





	New Year, Love me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is for strangeharpy on tumblr I really hope you like it!  
> This is my first Jupeter fic and boy oh boy I um struggled with the first person writing but I thought this would be a cute idea!! Also it's cheesy as hell which is .... yes.
> 
> On a separate note, if anyone is interested in screaming to me about juno theories my tumblr is chirrut--imwe

31st December, 11:45pm, abandoned roof top on Hyperion City. My new solace.

It was the end of yet another gruelling year in the excellent life of Juno Steel. I wanted it to be like last year, I wanted to feel the same punch of regret and kick of anger, and the small warmth of hope that maybe just...maybe the next year was going to be better. I dont know what that hope is holding out for-redemption maybe?

It’s hard to get forgiveness from people who are dead. It’s hard to get revenge from people who are dead too. Doesn’t mean I haven’t tried though.

The streams on TV always talk about resolutions, resolve to be a better person in the next year. Invest in high quality Uranium weight loss tablets. Quit drinking for good. New year, New me.

 

Last year I told myself not to mess up. Seems like an attainable goal, to anyone who isn’t me. Because this year you messed up good Steel. Made the worst mess in history.

So no, this year end wasn’t like last year. It wasn’t like the year before and I hate it. It’s almost funny, what a different guy I am today. Lost an eye, and gained a heart. Too much heart.

 

11:50, I can still smell him. That weird and exciting spicy scent that makes you want to drown in it for the rest of your life. I’d never feel that again. I’d never see him again.

So yeah Steel, you messed up big time. Left the only thing that ever meant more to you than your dang job. And now both are gone. I’ll never shoot again and I’ll never be with Peter Nureyev again. And it all leads back to this, my miserable existence on top of an abandoned rooftop, a bottle of scotch in one hand, all whilst the rest of Hyperion city celebrate the passage of time. I can hear parties, voices of joy echoing on the breeze as they get ready for the countdown. A huge clock face has been set up in the centre of town, can be viewed for miles all around.

 

11:55, and a few over enthusiastic kids start setting off the first fireworks and even I can admit I’m a little entranced. Fireworks get more creative every year; a blue flame in the shape of a dragon, circling the buildings; a tiger with a real roar. I hate the consumerism of holidays, but this...this isn’t so bad. The clock’s ticking down now. I sigh, it’s not like this means anything to me. I’ll just spend another year alone, depressed and desperately wishing I wasn’t alive.

The fireworks clamor on above, the sound almost as deafening as the screams of joy from the onlookers.

“You know, for such a lavishly populated and luxorious city, I didn’t expect holidays to be so...impersonal.” The whisky hits the floor with a smash as I whip around to meet the voice behind me. Through the fireworks, my melancholy and the scotch I hadn’t heard the fire door open. I take a moment to mourn the lost drink before I looked up. 

And there stood before me was the man who’d changed my year. Peter Nureyev.

 

“Nureyev? What-what are you doing here?” I’d left him in that hotel room. Alone. Without a note. I’d made sure there was no way he’d want to go after me. So why, why would he come back? To kill me? Taunt me?

 

He walked over to me, smooth and uncaring, not a single hair out of order as he took his place at the stretch of balcony next to me.  I could see the development of bags under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in days, but other than that he looked...perfect. He carried on talking like I hadn’t even spoken. Like I wasn’t there at all.

“Back home, we’d sit around a fire together-me, Mag-" he stumbled over the word "- and his entire band of thieves and criminals alike. We didn’t have much, but we’d share what we did, wishing each other better fortune in the next year. Hoping that we’d survive the tyranny of the lasers in the sky. That in a year's time, everyone would still be here.” He looked up and smiled sadly. That expression should never be on his face. I never want to see him like that again. "An idiot's hope, but one that's fueled my survival. I always hoped I'd live long enough to share a New Year's Eve with someone I cared about more than my own life." He was still looking to the sky, the shadows of fireworks displayed like rainbows across his face. I don't think I've ever spent more time shamelessly staring at another human being. 

“We did have one tradition though...and I believe we might just be in time for it.” He turned to me, finally, giving me the full attention of his magnetic gaze. The giant clock ticked as the final countdown set in, voices from neighbouring apartments joining in. Nureyev’s face was inches from mine, and he was so full of warmth, emotion, adoration. I don’t know what makes a guy like him feel that way for me. I don’t know that I deserve it. But as we approached the final seconds, he whispers “Happy New Year, Juno Steel.” and kisses me like the world was about to end and this was the last kiss he’d ever get. The clock turns to four zeros, fireworks burst above and the voices around us erupt in excitement. I don’t hear any of it, focusing on the feeling of being held and...cherished. We spring apart when both our lungs start to give out, panting into the cold air.

 

“But-but I left you. In the room. Why did you come back for me?” I say, and I know I should have started with an apology, _I know,_ but at that moment all I want to know is whether he’s really in it for the long run.

 

“Juno if I haven’t made it abundantly clear already and I’m quite sure I have, I love you. I want to be with you. I want to be the first and last thing you see before you go to sleep every day. If you’ll accept me, that is.” For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks properly nervous. As if I was going to reject him after all of this.

 

I don’t have much left by way of restraint. We collide in a tangle of limbs and what must be the world’s clumsiest hug. I’m whispering apologies into his neck and he’s mumbling his forgiveness and love into my hair. We make….we make a hell of a couple. And for the first time, that glimmer of hope turns into a full bodied flush. It might just be a Happy New Year after all.


End file.
